


Worked Themselves To Exhaustion

by H_Faith_Marr



Series: Blue Spirit AU [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue Spirit AU, Gen, I suppose, Insomnia, Introspection, Light Angst, Overworking, Prompt: Worked Themselves To Exhaustion, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Sleep Deprivation, Trust Issues, sokka's trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_Faith_Marr/pseuds/H_Faith_Marr
Summary: Zuko doesn’t understand these people, and he learned long ago not to trust what he couldn’t make sense of. So he can’t trustthem. The problem with that is, against all odds, helikesthem.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Blue Spirit AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574527
Comments: 68
Kudos: 1350





	Worked Themselves To Exhaustion

Zuko doesn’t understand these people, and he learned long ago not to trust what he couldn’t make sense of. So he can’t trust _them_. The problem with that is, against all odds, he _likes_ them. He likes Aang, with his unwavering (if naive) optimism and sunshine smiles. He likes Sokka, and his nightly patrols disguised as hunting trips (that are even occasionally successful). He likes Katara, allows himself her non-invasive understanding (though he could do without the sidelong, questioning glances of concern).

But liking isn’t trusting. Aang, too curious for his own good, will likely try to take his mask before too long. As much as it is framed as worry, Katara had openly admitted to him that first night that he didn’t have a say about leaving, and Sokka would no doubt enforce that. The worst part is probably the fact that Zuko can believe they only have the best of intentions. He can’t fault them for that, but he also knows better than near anyone that good intentions hardly have good results.

(He, himself, is a rather permanent object lesson for that).

(And he’s _Fire_. They shouldn’t trust him, either).

He’s never rested easy around other people anyway, so staying up to keep watch isn’t an odd course of action. Really, it should be expected, especially since Sokka’s caution only holds until he’s asleep. And, as much as the others might say differently, _he_ is the one who owes _them_. Aang had returned the favor of saving him by getting him away from the stronghold, then took it even further by giving him medical supplies, allowing him quick escape from the area, and feeding him, all without prying too deeply into who he really is.

Thus, keeping watch. He repays them bit by bit without ever truly letting down his guard. It’s the closest to a win-win scenario he’s likely to get.

Five nights running, however, on top of making himself useful in every available instance during the day, would take its toll on anyone. And, reluctant as he was to accept their help, he _is_ still injured. Every move at this point sends a lance of throbbing pain into his side, as unpleasant as it is familiar. 

He is careful about hiding this from Katara.

When Sokka corners him one evening, though, he has the clarity of mind to realize that she might not have been the only one to worry about, and that he hasn’t been careful _enough._

“Hey,” Sokka begins casually, hands loose and open at his sides. “You headed to bed soon?”

If Zuko weren’t so unsteady he would shake his head. Instead, he sticks to what he knows and leans forward in his seat to write, _not yet._

“If you’re worried about keeping watch,” the tribesman presses with all the apparent nonchalance in the world. “I can take over for tonight.”

A small spike of panic in his chest prompts him to refuse. _I’m fine with doing my part._

He scoffs. “Doing your part? You carry more than your own weight during the day already.”

 _Not really_ , he disagrees. _You all train and forage and set up camp, but won’t let me lift a finger to help. I have enough energy to spare, and you deserve your sleep._

“Listen,” Sokka runs his fingers across the shaved side of his head, frustrated. “Even though I can’t see your face, you _look_ exhausted, and you’re still hurt. I know you don’t really trust us, and don’t want to be here, but even _I_ know you need rest to heal. Plus, if you pass out tomorrow from overworking yourself and Katara finds out I knew about it, she’ll flay me alive. So can you do a man a favor and get some sleep?”

Despite himself, Zuko protectively reaches for his mask, forcing his hand back down to his side when he realizes what he’s doing. He _can’t…_

The other boy visibly softens at the aborted action, rubbing the back of his neck. “Katara told me about that. But really, can’t you sleep with it on?”

He _can_ , but that isn’t… He can’t let his guard down.

(A small voice wonders, _what’s the harm?_ Another, shriller voice, the one that’s kept him alive these long three years, shrieks back, _have you forgotten that you are Fire and destruction and all you will receive when they know is fear and loathing and pain pain pain—_ )

Zuko shifts subconsciously, balancing on the balls of his feet with his hands loose at his sides in an instinctively defensive stance.

Sokka, alert enough to notice, raises his hands. “Hey, hey, relax. You wanna stay up and watch our backs, I’m not gonna stop you. Just… You need to sleep sometime, man. If you need someone keeping an eye out… Well, you can always ask me.”

The other boy waits until Zuko gives a nod of acknowledgement. Then, without further ado, rolls into his own bedroll and promptly falls asleep, snores and all.

The offer is… touching, in a strange way. The ability to read people and their moods had been a lesson he learned very early in his life, even if he could never quite figure out motives. As confusing as it is, Sokka was _sincere_ , which is a puzzle in its own right.

Why do they _care_? He can understand repaying a debt, but this is beyond that. He can understand keeping him around as a sort of guard since he’s already risked himself to save one of their number, but instead they _coddle_ him. It doesn’t make _sense_.

His mind lends itself to exhaustion, and spirals.

\-----

The next morning dawns bright and heavy, the sun beating down in a way that might not be so oppressive if only he could still bend. He helps load the bison, ignoring the burning ache of exhaustion and Katara’s complaints about his reckless obstinance. 

And if Sokka gives him a _look_ when he –well, not _stumbles_ , but _shifts his feet to correct an unexpected change in momentum_ — then no one has to know about it.

Zuko does have to admit, even if just to himself and however reluctantly, that the other boy did have a point. No matter the strength of will, the body cannot hold out indefinitely. And, despite how he stokes his adrenaline-fueled wariness like a fire at every opportunity, he is forced to acknowledge that he can’t keep it up forever.

Agni, he’s so _tired._

Even still, he doesnt, _can’t_ , let his guard down. It’s not stubborn pride that stays his hand from seeking help –he abandoned pride and her sister shame two years and half a continent ago. There is no ill-founded sense of independence to hold him back –he _knows_ how slim an individual traveler’s chances are in war-torn and bordering territories, with an intimacy few would ever be unlucky enough to claim. No, there is only one reason to force himself onwards as he is, hypervigilant and cautious to a fault.

Experience.

After all, Zuko of all people should know that even the most well-meaning people can succumb to fear. That when people are afraid they tend to lash out, and even more so when they subsidize that fear with rage. 

He himself ran out of the energy to feel the latter at some point during the second month of banishment. Hunger and injury tend to do that, he has learned, though he hasn’t quite figured out how to get any of it back since then. It was so much easier to just be angry at the world.

If he could only access that anger… it might be enough to drive these people away before someone gets hurt.

(He’s not sure if he’s more worried about getting hurt himself, or hurting one of _them_. Thinking on it too much only promises to stress him out more, and he doesn’t have enough of himself to spare for hypothetical worries.)

(The inevitable ones are already too much to bear. Not that he has much of a choice.)

“Hey.”

Zuko snaps back to the present, mentally berating himself for the slip of attention even as he turns to Sokka with a tilt of his head to indicate his acknowledgement.

Preemptively, the boy lifts his hands as if to reassure that he has come unarmed, that he poses no immediate threat (as if Zuko were ever _that_ foolish, to not know when someone meant him harm). “You looked a little spaced there, for a minute. You good?”

He closes his fist in Appa’s fur to steady himself (read: to keep himself standing) and gives Sokka a curt nod (despite how his knees threaten to buckle).

The tribesman narrows his eyes in clear disbelief and shakes his head. “We need to find a better way to communicate. Hand signals, maybe? Those archer guys sure made them work…”

Zuko is sure the other has stopped talking to _him_ and more to the air, in the way that he does when he’s been offered a particularly puzzling enigma. Zuko also isn’t sure that he _himself_ isn’t the enigma that has posed so baffling. He’s even less sure about how to deal with it.

Sokka solves that last problem on his own by shaking his head again and announcing. “That doesn’t matter now. In fact, it’s perfect for right now because it means you can’t argue with me when I tell you to take a nap!”

Zuko draws himself up to protest like the night before, but Sokka throws up a hand. “Nu-uh, nope, stop right there. We’ll be in the air with nothing for you to do anyway, and there will be no way for someone to sneak up on us. It’ll be okay.”

He shakes his head, because that’s _not the problem_ even if it is somewhat warming that the other had gone out of his way to find a solution. A sidelong glance at Aang, however, seems to be explanation enough.

“Oh.” Sokka’s eyes widen a bit in understanding, and he presses his lips together. “Well.”

And Zuko braces himself for the frustration, prepared to be lashed at for being ungrateful or untrusting after _everything we’ve done for you and yet you still won’t take off that spirits-damned mask! Why, you owe us at_ least _that much! Or are you hiding something? Are you a wanted criminal? A spy? Or are you secretly Shu-forsaken_ Fire scum—

The Water Tribe boy’s face is twisted in concentration, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. Then, abruptly, it brightens, and he snaps his fingers with a grin. “I’ve got it! Hey, what if I watch your back for you? I’ll keep the others away –because believe me, I _know_ how nosey Aang can get— and you can get some shut-eye!” He crosses his heart. “Warrior’s honor. No one will go near or unmask you while you rest. How’s that?”

It’s the ‘ _warrior’s honor_ ’ comment that gets to him. Sokka is anything but dishonorable as far as Zuko has seen, and it is something that he can understand enough to put his trust in Sokka’s sworn word. At that thought, that acknowledgement of faith, all tension drains out of him and he relents, slumping against Appa’s side. Sokka makes a small squeak of surprise and reaches to catch him before his legs have the chance to give out. He jerks away from the other boy’s hands on instinct, but Sokka only pauses for half a second before he goes ahead and grabs Zuko’s arm to support him. 

It’s like a flip has been switched. One moment he’s awake and moderately alert, and the next moment has him fading fast with hardly enough strength to pull himself into the sky bison’s saddle even with Sokka’s help. Each ache and pain he’s been ignoring over the past week catches up with him all at once, with such vengeance that he can barely move without feeling like he’s been set on fire –a feeling that he is, unfortunately, intimately familiar with, and would much rather go his entire life without feeling again.

Zuko curls up on himself amongst the bags and bedrolls in the back of the saddle, cursing silently as Appa’s take-off jostles him and sends new waves of pain radiating from his side. His stitches throb in tandem with his head, and it is all he can do to keep his eyes open to make sure Sokka keeps his word.

At Appa’s head, he is speaking with the other two in a low voice. All three of their expressions are solemn, and both Katara and Aang nod in response to whatever he said before they all disperse. Aang drifts over to Appa’s head, and Katara busies herself with some small task just behind him. Sokka stations himself halfway between them and Zuko, propped up against the saddle’s side like a sentry with one eye on both groups.

Something tightens in Zuko’s chest, but he irritably pushes it down in favor of gripping the hilts of his dao in one hand and finally letting his eyes slip closed. Trying to remain even half-awake after he has surrendered so much ground to sleep is a fruitless endeavor, and unconsciousness soon rises to claim him like flames leaping to eat away at the last vestiges of his awareness. And so, at the end of the seventh day since he’d saved Aang, after six nights awake… Zuko reluctantly releases his hold on his mind and turns it over to dreams of remembered pain and fire.

**Author's Note:**

> I have... a lot of these plotted out. Too many. But I love this AU, so...
> 
> I also love speculation! Why is Iroh conspicuously absent? Who taught Zuko to cook? Why is Zuko silent if he doesn't have to worry about the gaang recognizing his voice? _I_ , of course, know the answers to these questions, but I want to know what _you_ think! Comment below! Make my day!


End file.
